


remember me love when I'm reborn

by acemartinblackwood (semnai)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sex-Repulsed Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semnai/pseuds/acemartinblackwood
Summary: They showed their love to each other, for each other, in a million different ways, and it's only been two weeks, but Martin felt like he could do this forever.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 18
Kudos: 235
Collections: Repulsed/Averse Ace Jon Archivist





	remember me love when I'm reborn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt by [arguenot](https://arguenot.tumblr.com/): Jon is sex-repulsed and hates anything involving tongues or saliva, so the two of them work out an alphabet of affection and physical touch that works for both of them
> 
> Thank you so much arguenot for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing this.
> 
> Title from "Shrike" by Hozier, which is SUCH a jonmartin song.

They wanted to show their love for each other in a hundred different ways. 

Martin gently grasped Jon's trembling hand, bringing it to his heart, holding it there like it's the most precious thing in the world. He kept it there, against his chest, until Jon's breaths slowed, until Jon raised his eyes to meet Martin's.

"It's okay, Jon. None of that matters," Martin said, before inhaling quickly and wincing. "I mean, it  _ obviously  _ matters, it's important, but…" Martin frowned, clasping Jon's hand tighter as if he was afraid Jon will melt into fog and disappear. "It doesn't matter to me. It doesn't change anything. I love  _ you _ , Jon. Sex is... " He gave a short, breathy laugh. " _ Nothing _ compared to that."

Jon swallowed, looking at Martin with wide eyes, and for a second Martin worried that Jon might be looking through him, past him, but then the moment passed and Jon nodded, his eyes shining, a wobbly smile on his face. Jon squeezed Martin's hand briefly before pulling it back to him and placing a quick, close-mouthed kiss on Martin's knuckles. "Thank you," Jon said, but when he noticed the small crease in Martin's brow, he sighed, the corners of his mouth downturning slightly. Martin's smile faded a little in turn. 

"Of  _ course  _ I'm going to say thank you, Martin. You've accepted  _ this _ without question, or without any sign of… of… doubt or regret. I cannot say thank you enough, frankly."

"Jon," Martin breathed, using his grip on Jon's hands to pull him closer until their foreheads rested together. Jon's eyes momentarily fluttered close as if he was savoring it, this gentle intimacy after so long apart, after both thought the other was lost. Martin let go of Jon's hand to cup his face, his thumb brushing just below Jon's eye. "I will say this as much as you need, but  _ nothing  _ about you is unwelcome. I've… I've loved you for so long, something as minor as sex or… or…." Martin laughed, softly. "Or, goodness, snogging would  _ never _ push me from you. I want  _ you _ , those things mean nothing compared to that." 

Their eyes met again, and Jon's gaze felt as if it flayed Martin to his very soul. 

"Okay," Jon whispered, like a secret shared between the two. "Okay."

They show their love for each other, to each other in a hundred different ways. It's new for Martin, figuring out how to navigate a relationship like this. Granted, he never really had a lot of time for any sort of dating when he was younger, between taking care of his mum and trying to hold a job for more than two weeks. So, really, this was uncharted territory for both of them. 

Martin followed Jon's lead for the most part. Jon loved to hold his hand, giving it a faint squeeze when he found something Martin said adorable or to show his amusement of another one of Martin's snarky remarks. He squeezed harder when he wanted Martin's attention or, sometimes, when he wanted to emphasize a point in a playful argument. Martin never realized before this how versatile hands can be. He's committed to memory the feeling of Jon's fingers softly brushing across his face, Jon's thumb smoothing his brow, the tug of his fingers threading through his hair. And when Jon tenderly cupped his face, Martin couldn't help but lean into his warm touch, trusting Jon to hold his face, to hold him, and never let go.

He grew accustomed to the feeling of Jon's arms around his waist, or both hands on his hips as Jon pulled him closer. He all but melted when Jon wrapped himself around Martin, their bodies flush together, his face buried in the crook of Jon's neck. Jon's scent surrounded him and it smelled like safety, like late nights in the archives  _ together  _ having one last cup of tea, where Jon was okay and with him, and it calmed him in a way nothing else could.

They spend whole mornings, entire afternoons resting against each other, Jon holding Martin, Martin holding Jon, and they read out loud or silently, Martin chewing a pencil as he tried to pull melodious, beautiful words from his brain, Jon scrunching his face as he stumbled through solving a crossword. 

Martin noticed when Jon's face lit up when he made Martin laugh, or how Jon peeked through the window when Martin made his way up the winding, old dirt path to their cottage after a trip to the nearby village, there at the door welcoming him back with unable to hide his smile. Most of all, Martin couldn't miss how Jon said his name, with reverence and raw emotion; each moment was meticulously cataloged in a way he thought even Jon would be proud of.

And they kissed: purposeful, careful, soft, closed mouthed things. Sometimes, but not always, they laid on the couch and gifted kisses to each other's foreheads, collarbones, corner of the mouth, or lips. Mostly though, a kiss would be quickly pressed as they moved past each other in the kitchen, before they fell asleep, or simply when Martin handed Jon a mug of tea. The heat they felt was more akin to a small wood stove, steadily burning, than the forest fire of passion expected elsewhere, but this did not matter to either of them. More than anything, their kisses were about being with each other, a reassurance that they were both there, they were together, passing the love they felt back and forth.

They whispered to each other reassurances, complements, and gentle encouragement. Jon asked Martin awkwardly one night if he could hear what Martin had written, and listened enrapt to Martin's recitation, eyes affixed on him, and after thanked him softly, earnestly, for sharing (Martin tries not to cry and fails). Jon said "Thank you," for every small favor or action Martin provided him. They bickered, falling back to familiar, fond patterns, but there was no bite to their arguments. The back and forth was a distraction, a game, an acknowledgement of how well they know each other, how they know the right buttons to push to make the other stumble in an argument or let them win.

They showed their love to each other, for each other, in a million different ways, and it's only been two weeks, but Martin felt like he could do this forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I'm trying to get back into writing after a rough patch, so I thought what better way to do that than fill one of my prompts and write some canon ace Jon. You can yell ace headcanons at me on Tumblr [here](https://acemartinblackwood.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Kudos and comments are love! <3


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